Caring for Mortals
by Natsumi Wakabe
Summary: Rated T for a little swearing. Estel's sick but refuses to admit it. Luckily, he's got a mentor that's more than willing to ensure that he gets the rest he needs.


_Disclaimer: Wakabe Writing Firm doesn't own Lord of the Rings_

_A/N: So... yeah, we have no idea where this came from. Probably from the sniffles poor Natsumi's been dealing with, though it could be from reading different stories about sick!Estel too. Regardless, it's up now, and we have no regrets. Hope you enjoy and please review.-Damon (Banshee Secretary, Wakabe Writing Firm)_

* * *

Spring was evil. It had to be. Why else would it make Estel so lightheaded with sneezing fits, his nose red and sore with fluids running unendingly down and then turn on him by making it all so beautiful and colorful when all it did was make him unwell?

_Spring _has_ to be evil,_ Estel mulled as he was forced to gently dab his poor nose. _Nothing so fair could ever be more foul and unkind than this._

_Or at least,_ Estel thought as he watched his brothers down below strolling to the archery range, _to humans._

Because so far, he'd seen no one else cursed by "hay fever" and "allergies" beside himself and all_ that_ served to do was make Estel even grouchier when he realized he'd be the only one in the house to suffer the afflictions of mortality and sickness._  
_

And for all that his family told him that he's perfect just the way he is, Estel can't bring himself to agree when he feels so miserable and can't enjoy the beauty of nature without the disgusting reaction of his own treacherous body. So instead he is forced to either go out and live with sniffles and snuffles or else stay inside where that damn irritating pollen would still somehow find its way to his nose and eyes.

_Not to mention that they don't get sick._ As Estel contemplated the unfairness of it all, he stabbed his quill into the ink well, his other hand holding a handkerchief to his poor nose, still protesting at the roughly soft material.

And really, that just seemed so unfair. Estel frowned as he felt the throbbing at his temple increase. Closing his eyes, he put his hand back down on the desk, trying to find some comfort in the cool wood and the gentle breeze that floated in from the window.

"Achoo!" Apparently nature was giving Estel a huge 'Die, mortal!'

Moaning in misery, his spine melted even as his knuckles turned white, the pen and hanker chief abandoned in favor of clenching tight until he lifted both arms and started clawing at the desk in frustrated misery. Groaning, he finally stopped moving and waited for his head to clear just a little bit more before attempting to get back to his lessons, hoping on one would come in to see him so horrible.

_Knock, knock_

Apparently, the universe was ignoring his wish.

"Estel?"

Cursing in a manner mostly seen by soldiers and not at all befitting of the foster child of an elf lord, Estel forced his increasingly aching body up and tumbled to the door. Upon opening it, he found his tutor on the other side, face unusually neutral and cool, not a hint of his normal scowl and his eyes untouched by either warmth or coolness.

"Erestor?" Estel asked, wincing at the sound of his own voice, stuffy with a slight rasp to it.

"Estel," Erestor returned. He stepped inside, eyes immediately drawn to the desk by the window where several used and soiled handkerchiefs littered both the desk and the floor, papers gathered together in mostly neat stacks. "I see you've been working hard."

Estel stayed silent, knowing that his teacher never said anything just for the sake of hearing his own voice.

"Indeed, your dedication is to be commended when you continue to do so even when you are so obviously unwell."

_And here it comes,_ Estel thought, bracing himself as best he could.

"Erestor, truly, you don't have to worry, it's just-"

"A cold."

"A col- a cold?"

"Did I stutter, child? A cold. You have a cold."

"Erestor, it's just my allergies acting up."

"Oh yes, I'm sure it is. After all, it is normal for you to be unfocused, tired, and grumpy all the time. Yes, of course. And let's not forget that lovely glaze to your eyes that you've been showing off for the last couple of days."

"That is merely-"

"The first signs of an illness that you have that your father has been content to ignore because he's been so busy tending to the injured rangers we've received. However, seeing as I am now freed from my desk, I am going to ensure that you get the rest you need to recover. I will not have my student suffer in his studies merely because he is too stubborn to take care of himself."

Estel would have fought harder against Erestor, but the elf did have a point, maybe. Just maybe.

"Fine," Estel says giving in, walking (he has too much dignity and strength to allow himself to fall into that embrace that he has known since he was a child, even if it is rare nowadays for him to be given such a privilege. It's one of the things he misses about his youth, when such was freer). "But only so that when you complain about how far behind I am once I've recovered I can say I told you so."

"You may say what you like, tithen pen, but I will only remind you that you have lost your headache, sniffles and running nose."

"I just can't win with you, can I?" Estel laughed, coughing a little once he'd finished saying that.

"No, and if you do, then you'll have to see if the twins dyed Glorfindel's hair dark again and he is prancing around pretending to be me." Estel laughed again, and once again began to cough. When he was finished, he let himself be manhandled into sleep clothes and then tucked into bed. Once situated, he watched lazily as his mentor went around the room, cleaning up and darkening the room enough that Estel would be able to sleep with only a little warm light and a gentle breeze.

"Still don't need this," Estel muttered halfheartedly as his eyes closed and his aching body began to mold to the bed.

"Go to sleep, Estel." The order was firm, but the softness which few others knew to listen for was there, bringing a small sleepy smile to Estel as he drifted. Erestor stayed a bit longer, and when he left, it was with only the near-silent click of the door that announced it.

And if Erestor happened to give Estel a kiss to the forehead like he hadn't since he was eight, well, no one could really say anything about it.

* * *

_So, no idea where this came from, and I rushed Damon to just post the damn thing, so it's not completely epic. But I like it. Hope you guys enjoyed. Any comments? Leave me a review! Thanks!_


End file.
